


miracles are just too damn hard to find

by Anonymous



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season/Series 02, Spaghetti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:51:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The doctors had said Eve was lucky it was such a small bullet or she might have lost the kidney, but Eve didn't feel lucky.





	miracles are just too damn hard to find

**Author's Note:**

> Short reaction fic to the series 2 finale.

Eve never should have trusted Villanelle. Eve never should have listened to Villanelle. Above all, Eve never should have given Villanelle her phone number.

She dropped her phone, but the thumbnail of the picture, red chunks of flesh and clotting blood, brought it all back: Raymond's corpse at her feet, gore all over them both, her apologizing for sticking an axe in him like an idiot, stayed with her, and she leaned over and vomited off the side of the hospital bed.

And then her phone chimed again, with another text. _It's all right,_ the text read, _it's just bolognese._ And a winking face emoji.

"Fuck," said Eve, and wiped her mouth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." At some point her tears turned into laughter, even as she realized that that wasn't how it was supposed to work.

-

In the middle of the night, her phone lit up again. Another picture. Scar tissue. Villanelle followed it up with a _Show me yours?_

_It's still under bandages,_ Eve shot back, _because it's BLEEDING. Because you put a bullet in my BACK._

_You stabbed me_ , said Villanelle. _I was just returning the favor._

Eve stared at her phone. Favor? _Favor?_ What, did she think they were even now or something?

_Send me a pic when the bandages come off,_ wrote Villanelle. And then, _Pls._ Smiley face emoji, question mark emoji. Why she hd to use the question mark emoji when there was a question mark on the regular keyboard was beyond Eve. _I want to know how much it looks like mine._

Or maybe she thought of the scars as some kind of matching tattoo business. Friendship bracelets in the flesh. _You're sick._

_I have a bit of hay fever,_ replied Villanelle, _but otherwise I'm fine. Nice of you to care._

Eve knew Villanelle was willfully misinterpreting her text, but she was too tired and too dopey from pain medication to sustain an angry argument for long.

She extended her hand, raised her middle finger, took a picture of it, and sent that to Villanelle instead.

-

_Are you mad at me?_ Villanelle asked, three days later. 

_You shot me. You manipulated me into killing a man--_ She could still see it, when she closed her eyes, still hear the axe thudding into Raymond's body, feel his blood spraying on her face. _\--and then, when I called you out on it, you shot me._ Or maybe she'd shot Eve because Eve wouldn't run away with her. Or maybe she'd shot Eve because Eve wasn't playing her part in whatever mad story Villanelle had written about them in her head. Eve didn't know. That was the problem. She had no idea what was going on in Villanelle's head. She never should have let herself believe that she had.

_..._ said Villanellle. Maybe, just maybe, what she'd done was sinking in.

_No, I meant are you mad at me because I killed Gemma._

_What?_ Eve typed and sent, and then she remembered.

Shit.

-

Somehow, in all the excitement--Rome, slipping into bed with Hugo, walking into that opulent dining room where Aaron Peel sat judging her and her letter opener, and Villanelle watched her languidly, inscrutably, enjoying it, and then killing Raymond, running through the caverns, emerging in the ruins, being shot, being found, being whizzed through the city's bumpy narrow streets, and being operated on--she'd forgot about Niko, forgot about Gemma. The ridiculous too-young, too-flashy, too-nice bras. The ballerina Eve had snapped from the jewelry box. It had been a little insulting to think that the man who'd married her could possibly want any of that. 

And then there'd been the phone call. The hospital had contacted the embassy, the embassy had contacted her husband. Eve's heart had seized up when she saw him calling. Like he'd wrapped a fist around it and squeezed. But for the first few days in the hospital, Eve had almost felt like she didn't _have_ a heart. Feeling it hurt had been a relief.

"Niko," she began.

But before she could tell him how much she missed him, before she could tell him how good it was to hear his voice, he said, "Do you know what she did?"

"What?"

"Do you know what she did?" He was yelling now. "Do you know what she did, your precious Villanelle?"

Of course Eve knew. She'd done the research. She'd seen the crime scenes. She'd watched Villanelle at work. She'd ended up in this hospital bed, with a bullet in her kidney. The doctors had said Eve was lucky it was such a small bullet or she might have lost the kidney, but Eve didn't feel lucky.

Before she could say any of that, though, Niko continued, still yelling, "She killed Gemma!"

And Eve asked, "Who's Gemma?"

_Oops,_ whispered a voice in her head that sounded very much like Villanelle's. Because the second she said it, she remembered. But by then, Niko had already hung up.

-

_Why did you kill Gemma?_

_I couldn't kill Niko,_ replied Villanelle. _Even though you're mad at him, he's your husband and you_ heart emoji _him. Even though he was cheating on you with that sad ginger and that should have been even more reason to cut his dick off._

And then, _See? I'm learning!_ Smiley face question mark smiley face question mark.

_But it sounds like he is not there for you or very sorry for you, even though you have been shot._ Teary-faced emoji. _Maybe I should kill him after all._

_DON'T._

_okay, okay, I was joking._

Eve sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. Her head was killing her. The worst part about being shot was she would have thought that only the shot part would hurt, but she'd been wrong. Her entire body ached. It was having the flu and a heavy period and a hole in her side at the same time. At least in the hospital someone else was responsible for changing her bedsheets.

_I'm going to ask for more morphine now,_ she told Villanelle. _And then I'm going to blissfully ignore this phone._

Another teary-faced emoji. And then three kissy-faced ones.

"God," said Eve, pressing the morphine button and sliding down into bed, "you just do not get it, do you?"

There was no reply from her phone, of course. Villanelle couldn't hear her, she wasn't there. No matter how near she felt.

-

"Here is the file on your husband's colleague's death," said Carolyn. "Smothered in a storage unit. Quite an unfortunate way to go."

"When you say unfortunate, do you mean the strangulation, or the storage unit?" Eve picked up the folder. She really hoped there wouldn't be pictures.

"Both, but primarily the storage unit. All that concrete and cheap paint. It's the worst parts of brutalism in a depressing office park. Anyway, the autopsy concluded that she had not had sexual intercourse recently." Eve looked up at Carolyn, nonplussed. "Well, we knew your husband was living with her, and some people can be quite touchy about monogamy."

"Villanelle killed her," said Eve.

"Yes, I read your husband's witness statement. Speaking of Villanelle, I did warn you."

Normally Eve hated to be told she'd been told so. This time, though, she deserved it. "She told me so herself."

Carolyn blinked. "What, in Rome?"

"No," said Eve. "After. She's been... texting me. Talking to me. I can't make her stop."

"You can't?" 

Eve shook her head. "I mean, I thought after I turned her down, she would have lost interest in me, and I'm clearly angry at her, and I've asked her--but she keeps--"

Carolyn pulled a small flask out of her jacket and offered it to Eve. She drank, wounded kidney be damned. Gin. It scorched all the way down.

She handed it back to Carolyn, who put it away. "Forgive me, Eve. I know they've put you on a considerable amount of pain medication and you're not necessarily thinking clearly, but have you considered blocking her?"

"Um," said Eve, because the answer was no. And now that she'd considered it, the answer was still no. No, she wouldn't block Villanelle. No, she couldn't block Villanelle. 

She pressed a hand to her side, her wound, and thought that she understood why Villanelle might have shot her. Eve winced, thinking of the emoji burst Villanelle might send if she ever admitted it. So she never was going to do that, either.


End file.
